


Descent into Evil

by lildouglas



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is a Devil, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Blood and Gore, Demons, F/F, F/M, Gay, Gore, Me and the Devil (song), Torture, cute but psycho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildouglas/pseuds/lildouglas
Summary: Early this morning, when you knocked up on my door, and I say, "Hello, Satan, I believe it's time to go."The Devil and I, we walk side by side.





	1. I'm Dangerous When I'm With You

Thinking is a dangerous to do, especially with a knife in your hand. Angela hummed, dragging the knife across a board. 

“Stop that!” a voice called from the next room. “Are you done with lunch yet?” Angela peered over the wall, a smile on her face. 

“Almost ready, Dear,” she called back. Her boyfriend sat in the living room in his own pigsty. Empty bags of doritos and forgotten mountain dew drinks surrounded him. Angela stepped in with a tray in hand. She set it down with a sigh. 

“What’s with the attitude?” Dean asked, a threatening grip on her wrist. She smiles. 

“Oh, nothing,” she sang, and he let go. “I have a surprise for you.” He raised his eyebrow. “I’ve prepared you dessert! Your favorite.” 

His suspicion lowered, and he settled back. “What are you waiting for? Bring it to me.” Angela glanced at the neglected bowl of soup she had went through the trouble to prepare. Without a thank you given, she slipped back into the kitchen. 

Back against the wall, Mercy’s eyes begin to water. She spends her days, sometimes weeks, at times, on missions to save the world. She hardly gets any appreciation. 

She didn’t become a hero for the fans. She wanted to help people, always has. She studied since she was young, even graduated school early. All of it seems pointless now, as her teammates only gripe at her. 

It was bearable, but now every day she comes home just to be bombarded by similar treatment. Just once, she’d like a break from these feelings. 

She looks to her Hello Kitty kitchen knife resting on the counter. She thinks for a moment, humankind’s most dangerous weapon. 

“What’s taking you?” 

“I’ll be but a moment, Dear!” she called back. She stood in front of the cake she had prepared. 

Moments later, she stood with a tray in hand, this time carrying an elegant, strawberry cake. A multiple tier, chocolate cake, coated in strawberry icing and little pieces of sweet fruit on the top. Her boyfriend didn’t notice anything about her. His eyes were on the cake. 

Mercy wouldn’t wear this at her own will. She is a classy woman, after all, but she still enjoys the comfort of gym shorts in her downtime. Dean, however, deemed it unladylike of a woman and forced her to wear the uncomfortable, stuffy dress even in the summer months. 

Dean didn’t see the degraded version of his girlfriend. When he looked at her, he saw his servant, someone beneath him. He didn’t even look at her, just at what was in her hand. 

That was his last mistake. 

If he had paid attention, he might’ve saw the hand tucked behind her back. He might’ve noticed the gloves on her hands. He might’ve noticed the smirk on her face. 

His fault, really. 

Mercy carefully set down the cake on the table, leaning in close to her sweetheart. He did look up, then, from his show to see her in all her beauty. She was beautiful, a faint memory of when he tricked her with kindness. He closed his eyes for a kiss, and he felt cold. Her lips were sharp. When he opened his eyes, a bright pink knife was inches away. “Babe, what’re--AHHH--” 

He hunched over in pain. His hands flew to his eye socket. Angela held the knife, a eyeball on the tip, for a close examination. “You psycho slut!” 

“What a shame,” she said. “Can you really blame a girl for wanting to have a lil’ fun?” With that, she plunged the knife into his chest and twisted it around. Not before she had a little too much enjoyment out of castrating the man. 

Her phone rang moments later. Mercy slipped her phone out of her pocket. “Hello?” she answered. 

“Hey, Angela,” the familiar voice of Pharah greeted, “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” Mercy replied. “You’ve called in the middle of my own.” She licked the last contents of her fork and set it down on the table. “Another night, maybe?” 

“Yeah, that’d be awesome!” A pause. “Actually, would you like to come over after Friday’s meeting. I’ve started a roast then, and I’ve made too much.” 

“I’d love to.”

“That’s great! I’ll see you then,” Pharah cheered. “I have to go now. Enjoy your dinner.” 

Mercy smiled, looking down at the cake in her hand. 

Mercy sat in the mess of her living room, her favorite strawberry-chocolate cake in her clutches, this time, topped with an eyeball. 

She pulled up the fork to Dean. “Would you like some, Dear?” The corpse made no response. She shrugged. “More for me, then.” She laughed to herself. 

“That’s a shame. A real shame.”


	2. Be Not So Fearful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharah-centric pov.

Pharah’s seen some serious crap. She’s seen beautiful things and some that keep her up at night. Overwatch has given her the chances to fight in beautiful spots of nature, as well as give her troublesome memories of bloodshed. As much as she can, she focuses on the gorgeous ones.

Mountains, rivers, canyons, valleys - she has seen it all. She has pictures as proof hung up on her wall and in her desk.

It’s taking every ounce of self control for her not to take a picture of the woman in front of her. 

Angela, in her short black dress, is ducked under an umbrella. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a braided bun, matching with the daisies on her dress. In her black jacket, black flowery dress, black pumps, she is gorgeous. 

Pharah takes a moment to reply. “U-Uh, you should come in. Rain, uh,” she stammered, pulling back the door wider. Mercy smiled, taking a step in. She slips a finger into her shoe and tugs them off next to a pair of blue converse. 

Pharah is in a bit more casual wear, probably the fanciest she’s ever seen in. To balls she wears military wear, usually in her blues. Dresses aren’t really her thing. She’s wearing a leather jacket, blue plaid tied around her waist, and black knee socks. 

“You have such a lovely home,” Angela greets, following Pharah to the dining room. She’s seen her office at work, and let’s just say this is a big improvement. 

Pharah nodded, accepting the compliment. She dragged a hand through her hair. “U-Uh, I didn’t know if--” she stopped, meeting her eyes. Angela tilted her head in confusion. “You… Hey.” 

“Hey,” Angela said, holding back a smile. So nervous, this one. 

“Are you okay?” Pharah asked. With the death of her boyfriend so recent, is this okay? 

Pharah’s heart flutters when she’s around the doctor. At first, she figured it was because she was dying, bleeding out on a battlefield. That’s a reason to be afraid. Dying, well, it’s kind of scary. It wasn’t the first time she met her. She fell in love with the delicate fingers patching her up, the worried voice calling her name, the woman who visited her, constantly worried about her health. 

Pharah knew she had a boyfriend. Dean. 

Mercy mentioned him a couple times. She never brought him up on her own, only when someone said it first. Once, late into the night, when Angela was falling asleep in her office, Pharah heard. 

She was sneaky about it. The doctor would keep up in her office, long after she was supposed to go home, scribbling away in that notebook of hers. Sometimes she’s conducting studies, writing an entire novel in one night. Pharah saw her one day in September, one of those many days where she was just “passing by” because she is definitely not a stalker. She just likes to take walks at night. To the other side of the compound. Nothing weird about that. 

That September night, Pharah heard sobbing. She knocked then, betraying her better judgement. What would she say when she asks why she’s here? She’s not thinking. 

Mercy is crying alone. That’s all that’s in her head. She tears open the door to see Mercy, drowning in her lab coat, with her head pressed into her hands. Her sleeves are pulled down to show cuts and bruises. Her sobbing is so loud she doesn’t hear her enter. 

“Angela,” Pharah calls, her voice filled with sorrow. “Angela.” She steps closer, but she showed no response. She lays a hand on her shoulder, and she flinches so hard she hits her desk. She looks up at her. 

Snot is bubbling, tears are streaming down her face. Her face is a scarlet red from her struggle to breathe through her cries. “I-I,” she started, voice strained. 

“What happened?” Breathless. Fist clenched. Who hurt you?

“P-Please,” she begged. “It wasn’t… I-It wasn’t my fault! I just wanted to…” She breaks off into loud sobs. “Don’t look at me. Please…” 

“No,” Pharah said. “I won’t leave you. You don’t have to tell me anything.” 

Mercy threw her head into Pharah’s hold. She accepted, letting the hysterical doctor shake in her grip. She rubbed at her head, patted her back, let her cry until she couldn’t. 

Mercy didn’t tell her. She didn’t have to. The only word that would leave her mouth was “Dean” and it was spoken with a tone of voice she could not recognize. 

Pharah didn’t have to be a genius to know there was something wrong about him. She brushed it off as a fight. She had no reason to believe anything else. Mercy never mentioned that night and neither did Pharah. Still, she would visit at nights, from that point on. Sually, Mercy was already crashed in her work. 

And, now, Dean was dead. Angela should be mourning, not here with her. Don’t get her wrong - she loves Angela and wants her to be here, eating dinner with her without a care in the world. As much as she wants that, it’s not what is best for Angela right now. 

“Is it okay? That you’re here?” Pharah asked. They stood feet away from the table. 

Mercy exhaled. “A celebration,” she replied. “I loved him. I did.” 

“Then, why are you here?” Pharah’s voice came out shakier than she had hoped. 

“Let me finish,” Angela said. “I loved him. Past tense. I stopped feeling that way before he died.” 

Pharah’s eyes widened. Before she could say anything, Angela continued, “Now, shall we eat?” 

Dinner went smoothly. Pharah wasn’t that shabby of a cook, afterall. She learned from her mother, Ana, who was the best. They carried on in conversation throughout the dinner. After they finished, Pharah surprised her with an ice cream sundae she had prepared. 

They were sat on a couch, empty desert bowl forgotten on the table. A show played on the television, but Pharah didn’t pay attention. Mercy would pat her shoulder in excitement - “This is the best part!” Pharah was much more focused on studying her crush. 

Mercy must have felt her gaze because she turned to meet her eyes. Her bright, baby blue eyes glistened with sparks. She’s told her of her own: “Stripes of golden brown - I love gold.” Mercy said it, her own words. Pharah took it to her heart. 

Pharah’s casted down her eyes at the rosy pink lips. How much she wanted to kiss her right now caused a ripple in her chest. She cursed at herself. Don’t kiss the girl. Her boyfriend just died. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Her voice is soft and quiet; Pharah can hear every word. The television is background noise. 

“I’m thinking,” Pharah said, licking her lips, “about how much I… appreciate you.” 

Mercy hummed, breaking off into a smile. She leaned in close, lips brushing against her ear. “Pharah,” she sang. The way she called her name sent shivers down her spine. 

Pharah knew she shouldn’t kiss her. But, isn’t this what she wants? She came to the dinner to see Pharah, to see her on a date. 

She shouldn’t want to kiss her, but she’s leaning in so close. Her lips are practically on her - so close, yet so far. Angela’s lips have brushed against Pharah’s when her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head down. “A-Angela?” 

“Oh, God,” she cried. “N-No. W-What am I doing?” Her hands lowered to reveal the one emotion Pharah recognized without a doubt: fear. 

“Angela--”

“I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’ve done something. No! Stop!” Her hands cradle her head. “I have to go!” 

Angela runs to the door, and Pharah stands. She’s out the door, in the street with rain pouring down. She watches her run, barefoot in the street without her umbrella. 

She wants to run out, chase her down in the storm. 

She doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so??? i figured ima give some pharah insight. It'd be more interesting that way. Trust me dude
> 
> also the title of this chapter is a song name and I listened to it on repeat while writing this so uh yea ok whatever 
> 
> so next chapter is gonna be more on mercy (a lot of stuff is) and lemme just say I have a lot planned... 
> 
> and a warning: some dark themes (duh) coming up
> 
> and if ur waiting for me to update, maybe check out some of my other stuff??? I work best if I have many things on my plate. Comments are appreciated. (my true motivation)
> 
> THANK YOU FOR UR SUPPORT :)))))))))))))


	3. Send a Message to the Bears

The door slammed behind her, causing a loud “bang” to echo throughout her tiny apartment home. She’s sure the neighbors can hear; she doesn’t mind. 

Angela holds herself up from a single, strong hand on the bathroom counter. Her eyes are squeezed shut with tears threatening to escape. Her head drums with a familiar beat. 

She’s mumbling to herself. Not even she can make sense of her own ramblings. With a particularly heavy sob, Angela slips and falls weak. Collapsed on her floor, she grabs head and screams. 

A train passes by a cheap apartment. She could afford more, if she wanted to. She doesn’t - she likes the homely feeling. And she could live in Overwatch, she could, but she has her own little place. 

She has her own little place for moments like this. Moment like this where Angela keeps herself awake for hours on end with nothing but her thoughts and her shaking body to keep her company. 

She lets out a sharp cry, louder than any train, any lion’s roar. “Go away!” she cries, striking her hand on the mirror. The glass shattered upon her strength. She bleeds. “Stop!” 

“Oh, Dear, how unpleasant,” the voice in her head sings. “Such pretty skin. What a shame.” 

Angela gasps. “It was you,” she rasps out, grabbing the pair of scissors by her sink. She stares at the broken reflection of… of herself. “Me? I, uh--”

“Oh, please,” said her reflection. “Don’t act so surprised. You should’ve known it was me, you, all along.” 

“I don’t understand,” she grasped at stars. “I, no, Pharah wouldn’t… I’d never do that to her!” 

The memory played on repeat. Mercy almost got everything she wanted. Just a little kiss from the girl she’s been crushing on for a while now. As soon as her dreams were going to come true, a pained dream of sorts fought its way into her head. It’s all she could think about. 

Pharah’s golden, muddy brown eyes were dull, without the sprightly sparkles of its normal appearance. A black chain thick around her neck was attached to the wall behind her. Her hands were placed in front of her body, chained together, with bloody bandages wrapped around. Fingers sprawled on the floor directly beneath. A girl, far too familiar, stepped towards her. Blonde hair, baby blue eyes, a lab coat - Angela knew herself, but this wasn’t her. 

She couldn’t get the “memory” out of her mind. She’d never do Pharah like that. Her stomach churns. She throws herself to the toilet and plugs her nose. 

Strands of blonde hair fall in her face. Her delicate fingers grip the sides of the toilet, flying off from her nose. She’d move the hair out of her vomit’s way, but if she doesn’t hold herself up she’ll fall over. 

Her chest tightens as the dinner Pharah had gone through the trouble to make spilled out of her mouth. She shivered and gagged. 

Ghostly hands caressed her face. She could feel the strands be pulled back by a mysterious force. She didn’t turn around to look. “Easy now,” the voice said to her. “I’m only here to help you.” 

“I don’t want this!” she rasps out. “You’re… why I killed Dean.” 

The voice laughed. “Honey, that was all you.” 

Angela pulled back and shifted on her feet. “No…” she trailed. “I…” She shook her head frantically. “Why are you doing this to me?” The confusion made her head spin. 

“You really don’t understand,” the voice mused. It would sound gentle if not from a killer. “I’m a part of you. Everything I’ve done is for you, for me. For us.” 

“I--”

“Quiet now, Angela,” the voice said, and Angela felt hands grab at her. 

Her reflection kneeled before her, this time with jet black hair and devil horns. A tail wrapped around her heels. The reflection smiled and pulled the sick girl close to her chest. “All you have to do is one tiny, little favor for me. That’s all! And, then, I can help you. I can help us.” 

“With what?” she spat. “Dean is dead, and I pushed Pharah away… I thought of doing terrible things to her.” No tears came. Dull, blank eyes stayed dry. 

“I can get her to love us,” she promised. “I can help you feel appreciated again. Well? What do you say?” 

Mercy thought of Dean. She thought of how she treated Pharah. 

“Okay,” she said at last, reluctantly. The Devil’s grin stretched ear to ear. 

“Great!” She helped her to her feet. Angela trembled in her hold. “I just need that itty bitty favor.” She cocked her head to the side. The Devil laughed. “A small kiss is all I need to seal the deal.” A scarlet red blush dusted her cheeks. She nodded, leaning in close to give a small peck on her cheek. Her alter ego grinned, grabbed her wrist, and planted her lips on her own. 

She pulled away. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said with a wink. The girl rose, flying in the air. Her tail flickered. “I will see you soon.” 

Angela was left alone in her bathroom, red lips, and a dark cloud in her mind. 

~

In the morning, Angela didn’t feel any hesitation to go to work. All her worries about seeing Pharah had faded away. Instead, she carried herself with courage, waltzing across the compound. 

“Doc!” a young voice greeted causing her to spin on her heels. “Hide me!” Angela grinned as the gremlin ducked behind her back. Jack Morrison stormed in a while after. 

“Ah, Ziegler!” he greeted. “It’s nice to see you’re back.” His old face twisted into a wry smile. “How have you been?” 

“Okay,” she replied. “I missed being here.” She let out a dry laugh. 

“That’s like you. You’ve never been one to skip out on your duties.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Unlike someone I know…” D.va peeked out from behind Mercy and stuck her tongue out. “You…!” 

“Bye!” she screeched. “I hope you feel better!” She took off in a sprint with Jack on her heels. She let a smile creep on her face. 

After a few moments of watching the sprightly heroes walking away, she slid her keys into her office. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she slipped on her lab coat and resumed her work. Being the main doctor of Overwatch always swamped her with work. She has so much to check up on. 

She pulls up her clipboard. A long list of chores awaits her. Before she can even start them, however, there’s a knock at the door. “Come in!” she called. The little bells on her door chimed. 

“Angela…” Pharah stood, fidgeting in the doorway. She was in her workout gear. It was obvious she just came from the gym. “I heard you came back. Wanted to check on you… After the other day…” 

“Pharah--”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s alright. I, uh, understand, well, I don’t. I mean, I know what it’s like to lose somebody you love. And, I know it takes some time to regroup. I took advantage of you by inviting you over. I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” 

Mercy walked to her. “Oh, Pharah,” she sighed. “It isn’t your fault. I came over because I wanted to. And, then, I just ran away like that. I’m the one that should be apologizing.” 

Pharah wrapped her in a hug. She smelled like sweat and blood, like always. She pushed her head into her neck and nuzzled her. 

“You wanna get drinks tonight?” she purred. “My treat?” 

“I-I,” Pharah stammered. “Y-yeah, that, uh, sounds great. The regular place?” 

~

Drinking isn’t a practical thing to do if you’re a doctor. That’s what Pharah thought the first time she asked her out for drinks. However, quite to the contrary, when coming from Mercy’s mouth, drinks mean an entirely different thing. 

She’s got the biggest sweet tooth she’s ever seen. She knows how harmful they are for her teeth, but she shows no sign of it as she gulps down the chocolate shake. Pharah smiled. 

They stood on the balcony of the living quarters - a free space for the heroes, even if they didn’t have a permanent bedroom there. It was open to their leisure, and they used it quite often. 

Pharah is drinking a protein shake when Angela suddenly grips the balcony. Her head is ducked down, and her entire body is shaking. “Angela, what’s wrong?” Pharah asked, tilting her head up with a finger pressed at the bottom of her chin. She pulls her eyes up into her own. 

The baby blue eyes she fell in love with are swirling with fear. “What’re you thinking about?” she whispers, a gentle smile on her face. 

“I don’t want to go home alone tonight.” 

Pharah took a double take, strawberry flying everywhere. Her protein shake hit some poor person on the ground below - a scream echoing afterwords. She would’ve laughed if not for the situation. 

“I’ve been so lonely,” she swoons. “Ever since Dean died…” Pharah’s silence prompted her to say more. “I’ve been terribly afraid.” 

“I, uh,” Pharah offered awkwardly. “You can spend the night at my place.” 

Mercy raised her eyebrow. She raised her hands defensively. “Angela, I know it’s kinda cramped, but--”

“My place is just as well,” Angela said. “Wouldn’t mind the company.”

“...Yeah, okay,” she said, after a long period of silence. “Yeah.”

They turned to leave - Pharah turned to get one last look at her face, and when she did, she could’ve sworn, maybe she was seeing things, but of all things from the widow’s face, she saw a devilish grin for a second. 

And then it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoopy stuff coming up... get out while you can (or don't)

**Author's Note:**

> I start too many stories, but I am coming close to finishing them all. One's actually already done with, soo if you wanna check it out go ahead! 
> 
> This is my first Pharmercy story, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> A friend told me to write what I'm afraid to write. On that note, here I am. I hope you enjoy.


End file.
